He misread her hesitation. “I know the house isn’t as tidy as it could be. Ben and I have been doing some fixing that I had to put on hold while I went down South.” He scratched his chin with his fingers, his nails rasping over his whiskers as he stifled a yawn. “I just got back.”
Rachel chanced another look at him, and this time noticed the lines of fatigue around his mouth and eyes. And the motherly part of her, that Gracie had teased out, felt a moment’s empathy.
“Sure. Just for a moment. I don’t want to leave Gracie with Aleeda for too long,” Rachel said as she followed Eli through the front entrance, past the bright and cheery living room to what she supposed was the dining room. Thankfully, Gracie was a safe topic that concerned them both.
A lone table sat in the center of the hardwood floor, two folding chairs flanking it. Through the French doors of the dining room, Rachel could see a yard edged with shade trees. A small building was tucked into one corner of the yard, a miniature replica of the house. A playhouse.
She glanced around the house while Eli was busy in the kitchen adjoining the dining room. In spite of the lack of furniture and pictures on the wall, the house exuded warmth and welcome. The large windows let in abundant light, enhanced by the high ceilings.
This house could be a home in a way her modern and stark condo loft never could, Rachel thought with a twinge of regret.
“How is Gracie?”
“She was fussing all day today,” Rachel said, sitting down on the chair, her eyes drawn, once again, to the playhouse in the yard. “I think she’s got a bit of what Chance, Meg’s little boy, had. Probably just a cold.”
“Do you want me to stop by and have a look at her?” Eli, asked, seeming suddenly concerned.
Rachel felt a moment’s annoyance. As soon as she mentioned Gracie’s name, his attitude did a hundred-and-eighty degree change.
“That’s okay. I rescheduled an appointment with you for the day after tomorrow.”
“You are keeping a close eye on her, aren’t you?”
Rachel heard the stern tone in his voice and couldn’t help but bristle. Then she relaxed as she recognized it for what it was: concern for a child who was medically fragile. A child they both, in spite of what had come between them of late, cared for.
“I am,” she said quietly.
Eli handed her a cup of iced tea and sat across from her. He kept his eyes on the chilled glass in his hands.
Rachel took a careful sip, wondering how she was going to bridge this sudden gap—no, make it chasm—between them.
Straightforward was usually best.
“Eli, about the other day. At the picnic. I just want to say I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you but I was scared.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, cutting her off. He looked up at her then and there was a sadness in his gaze that cut her more deeply than what he had said. “You and I…” He shook his head as if negating the possibility.
Rachel felt as if he had hit her in the stomach. She tried to regain her bearings. She had come here ready to tell him what she had never told anyone before. And now he was practically telling her not to waste her time? What had happened? What had changed? How had her hesitation that day caused this hurt she saw in his eyes?
She felt as if she was teetering at the very place she had almost plunged into. She took a deep breath, caught her balance and stepped back.
And then there was nothing more to say.
She gently pushed her glass away and stood. She avoided looking at him, all the while keeping a tight rein on her emotions. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him. Not now. She took a careful step away from the table and walked toward the front door, praying that she wouldn’t fall and embarrass herself.
The door opened just as Rachel got there and a tall man with dark hair strode in. A young girl of seven skipped alongside him. They both stopped short when they saw Rachel. The man frowned, then looked past her as if trying to figure out where she had materialized from.
“Is Eli in?” he asked.
“He’s in the dining room.” Rachel poked her thumb over her shoulder. She really wanted to leave, but politeness kept her standing where she was.
“I’m sorry. I’m Ben Cavanaugh,” he said, holding out a large hand. “His brother. This is my daughter, Olivia.”
The young girl gave her a tentative smile. Rachel forced one in return. She had never felt less like smiling, making small talk, meeting the rest of Eli’s family. She returned Ben’s handshake. “I’m Rachel Noble,” she said.
Ben’s smile lit up his face. “Rachel. I’m so glad to meet you at last.”
Eli had talked about her enough that there was an “at last” to their meeting?
Ben held her hand a moment longer, then glanced past her. “Hey, brother, you never told me she was so good looking.”
“Rachel was just leaving,” Eli said quietly.
Had he spoken in anger, Eli’s quiet denunciation might have been easier to deal with. But this unemotional dismissal of her cut Rachel to the core. She could have been an unwanted saleswoman trying to hawk brushes or plastic-ware for all the concern he seemed to express at her exit.
“Eli is right,” she said, avoiding Ben and Olivia’s surprised looks. “Nice to meet you.”
Rachel walked past them, out the door, down the sidewalk and, she felt, out of Eli’s life.
Chapter Fifteen
“You never told me how gorgeous she was,” Ben said, as Eli watched Rachel back her red sports car out of the driveway. “Or that she drove such a wicked car.”
Ben glanced at Olivia. “Do you want to watch some television?”
Olivia’s eyes grew wide at the unexpected treat. “Yes, please,” she said, and scampered off to the living room before her father could change his mind. Ben turned back to Eli.
Eli caught the back of his neck with both hands. He didn’t need Ben hanging around analyzing his life. He had done the right thing. He knew he had. When he had seen Rachel on the step, the expectant thrill he felt at her presence had surprised him. But what he had discovered this weekend had pushed that expectation aside.
“I didn’t tell you much because I didn’t know what was going to happen,” he said simply.
“Well, it looked like something happened. She left here on the verge of tears. What did you say to her?”
“Nothing.”
“She came here to visit you and you said nothing? How dumb do you think I am?”
Eli sighed and looked at his brother, so different from him.
“So why did you come?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. Ben’s timing was terrible. Eli wasn’t in the mood to visit with his brother. Not now.
“I wanted to know if you managed to talk to Kelly about your file.”
Eli frowned. Where had that come from? “I thought you figured I should stay out of that part of my life.”
“Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Eli knew he wasn’t going to get anything from his brother until they were alone, so he led the way to the kitchen, Ben following him. He poured his brother a glass of iced tea, hooked his foot around a chair to pull it up to the table, dropped onto it.
“So spill.”
“There was a fire last night at the Tiny Blessings office.”
“What?”
“I was driving by and saw the flames. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Kelly to find out what happened. I don’t know how extensive the damage is, but I was hoping that you got what you needed before the fire.”
Eli rocked back in his chair. How ironic. Had he waited, he might have been saved a lot of trouble and heartache. Had he waited, his parents’ file might have been destroyed.
“I got a copy of the complete file from Kelly the other day. But now I wish I hadn’t. Just like you suggested.”
“So what did you find out, Eli?”
Eli sighed, then went for it. “The parents I thought were so great were driving her
e because they were on the run from the law. I found out that they weren’t the wonderful, amazing people of my memories. They were simply common crooks.”
Ben almost spat out his tea. “What?”
“I tracked down some information, did some digging. My name wasn’t Eli Fulton, it was Eli Giroux. When my parents had the car accident, they were on the run from the police in another state. They were wanted for embezzlement and robbery and for questioning for a bunch of other unsolved petty crimes.” Eli shook his head and swigged down the rest of his iced tea in one gulp. Then he pushed his cup back and forth between his hands, his movements agitated.
“Does Rachel know?”
“I couldn’t tell her, and why should I?”
“Because when you talk about her, you get this sappy look on your face. And when you look at her…” He lifted his hands as if to say, You know what I mean. “I think you love her.”
Eli gave the cup another shove. “I do. But what am I supposed to do about that? This house isn’t ready. I’ve still got debts. She comes from a very rich family, and my own parents, I’ve just discovered, were crooks. Quite the family tree I’m offering her.”
“Don’t be such a reverse snob. I don’t think that would matter to her.”
Eli laughed shortly. “You obviously haven’t seen the Noble Plantation. And she doesn’t know my family’s background.”
“I don’t think you give her enough credit,” Ben said sadly.
“Well, for now, I don’t have much to give her, period.” He looked up at his brother. “Cut me some slack, okay? I do care about her. A lot. But right now my life is a mess and I don’t want to go into a relationship with all this stuff hanging around me.”
Ben leaned over and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Eli, life is always going to be a mess when you let other people in. You are way too devoted to this so-called plan of yours. I don’t think you should wait until you’ve got all your ducks in a row. I think you need to give this your best shot. I think she’s worth it.”
“You’re full of advice, Ben, but I know that you’re not ready for another relationship.”
“That’s my life, brother,” Ben said, with a warning note in his voice. “Yes, I lost Julia and it hurts more than I can say. God gave me a raw deal when that happened and I still don’t trust Him, but I don’t want to see you waste an opportunity.”
Eli just nodded, still unsure. Ben didn’t know Rachel. Or her life.
“C’mon, honey. You have to drink something,” Rachel said, coaxing Gracie. But she turned her head aside, tucking it against Rachel’s chest. Rachel could hardly hold the little body, she was so warm.
Rachel had tried to lower her temperature using the horrible method Eli had shown her, but while it had given the child momentary relief, her temperature had spiked again. Rachel glanced at the telephone, wondering if she dared phone Eli.
But when she did, she thought of the cool note in his voice, how easily he had dismissed her yesterday. She almost laughed at the irony of it all. She had avoided Eli because she didn’t want to hurt again.
And now, because of him, a slow steady pain had permeated her life. She missed him. Wanted to be with him. But he had pushed her away. She should have kept her heart whole. Should have listened to her own advice.
Rachel got up and started walking, rocking the little girl who lay listlessly in her arms. It was eleven in the evening, and in spite of her self-talk, Rachel was alone and afraid. She didn’t know where to turn. Again she had that feeling of being out of control that she’d had when she was with Eli.
“If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast.”
The words of a Psalm that Reverend Fraser had read when Rachel had gone to church slipped into her mind. She held them a moment.
Did she dare put herself in God’s hands? Let go? She’d had to learn so many lessons in letting go and, to her surprise, they had come easier than she’d thought.
But this? To put her feelings and love for this child in the hands of a God who had let her down so cruelly in the past? To let go of Eli, as well? Because she knew that what she felt for him was deeper than what she had felt for Keith. And the thought frightened her.
Gracie jerked in her arms. Then her arms flung out to the sides as her eyes rolled up and her head snapped back.
Rachel had no more time to think.
She ran to the phone and with shaking hands punched in 911.
Fifteen minutes later she was running behind the paramedics as they pushed the gurney holding Gracie’s convulsing body through the large glass doors toward the emergency room.
They turned down a hallway. Rachel tried to follow them, but was suddenly restrained. “Miss, you can’t go there.”
A nurse was talking to her, and Rachel whirled around, about to fight her off. She had to go, had to be with Gracie.
“They need to work and you’ll get in the way. Your little girl is in good hands,” the nurse was saying.
The words fell like loose pebbles into Rachel’s mind. She understood but couldn’t grasp them.
“Stay here. The doctor will come and let you know what is happening.” She was young and shorter than Rachel, but the hands that held her were surprisingly strong.
Rachel threw a glance back to where they had taken Gracie, but the gurney and the paramedics were gone.
She felt suddenly lost as she looked around the busy room. She didn’t know how she had gotten here. She vaguely remembered the rocking ambulance, the two men hovering over Gracie, working on her, their voices crisp as they volleyed instructions back and forth. Instructions she could not decipher but that had increased the panic that bubbled in her chest.
The nurse gently but firmly led Rachel to a low counter with chairs on one side and a bank of computers on the other.
Rachel mechanically went through the list of questions. No allergies. Medications. Told the nurse again who Gracie’s doctor was.
As she answered she felt some of the panic sift away. She had a job to do right now and she concentrated on giving the nurse the best information she could. As if by answering the questions calmly and saying each word precisely she could help Gracie, could remove that blank look from her sister’s face, could restore the color to cheeks the color of her mother’s best white damask tablecloths.
They were finally done. Rachel declined the offer of water from the nurse. “When can I go see my sister?” Rachel asked.
“I’ll find out what is going on.” The nurse got up and quickly walked to the ward, leaving Rachel fighting a latent anger. Complete strangers were working on Gracie, able to see her at will, and here she was, her own sister, barred from seeing her.
Rachel paced the floor, watching the minute hand crawl over the clock face. She kept her eyes averted from the other people in the waiting room. Her mind could not take in their pain and worry, as well.
Finally the nurse returned. “She’s stable now. They just transferred her up to pediatric ICU.”
Rachel felt a cold weight settle on her chest. “I thought you said she was stable.”
“She is. But she needs to be monitored closely.” The nurse gave her a careful smile. “She is okay. For now.”
“For now?”
“I can take you to her, if you want.”
“I do.” Rachel followed the nurse, focusing on putting one foot at a time in front of her. They got into a stuffy elevator, and Rachel looked at her hands. The nail polish she had painstakingly applied the day of the picnic was getting chipped.
In fact she realized she was wearing a stained, oversize T-shirt and baggy cargo pants that had seen better days.
A couple of weeks ago she would never have been seen in public with less than a perfect hairstyle, perfect manicure and one of her many power suits.
Right now, she didn’t care.
The elevator pinged, the doors slid open and Rachel followed the nurse down the hallway to a set of double
doors. The nurse walked up to a cubicle with a window and spoke to the nurse behind the desk there. The doors magically opened and Rachel was directed to a sink, where she was instructed to wash her hands.
“You won’t have to gown up,” the nurse told her as Rachel dried her hands off.
The nurse led her to an open room that held four small beds surrounded by banks of monitors. Only one other one was occupied, but Rachel had eyes only for Gracie. She looked like a tiny doll on the bed, wearing a hospital gown that had slipped off one shoulder. Rachel focused on that, shifting it carefully up, moving it so the snaps on the shoulder would not press into her delicate skin.
She couldn’t look at anything else.
She was far too aware of the tube inserted in Gracie’s mouth, the hiss of the respirator that breathed for her, the bleep of various monitors that measured her life. The plastic lines that snaked from her chest and her arm through other machines to bags of fluid that hung over her bed that sustained that life…
A few hours ago she was a tiny body that Rachel could cuddle and hold close. Now she was connected to equipment, hindered by the paraphernalia.
A familiar panic rose in her chest. She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t see this tiny body laying helplessly in this organized confusion of tubes and monitors. She couldn’t watch this little girl’s life seep away.
Just like Keith’s had.
There wasn’t enough air. They had taken all the oxygen out of the air and given it to her little sister. Rachel felt a dark curtain slowly lower over her vision and she reached blindly behind her. Her hand caught the back of a chair and she lowered herself into it.
She inched her hand through the side rails of the bed. When she found Gracie’s hand, she slipped her fingers around it, careful not to dislodge the oxygen monitor clipped to Gracie’s thumb.
The momentary contact with her hand fanned an ember of hope.
“My power is made perfect in weakness.”
The passage from the Bible settled into her mind and Rachel repeated it again and again, wishing she could remember the rest of it, wishing she had spent more time reading the Bible, and praying. She was so out of practice, and, for now, it was the only thing she could do.
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